


All Burned Out

by HissHex



Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 - A TMA Collection [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, The sort of thing fairly typical for the desolation, but i did make it pretty big, its mature just to be safe, not explicit tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex
Summary: Little Miss Perry had always loved bonfires.Little Miss Montague was a bonfire, and didn't like the competition.
Relationships: Agnes Montague/Jude Perry, Jack Barnabas/Agnes Montague (mentioned)
Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 - A TMA Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995427
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	All Burned Out

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where this came from

Little Miss Perry had always liked bonfires, big and bright and hot and fierce. The flicker of heat and light against her face if she got too close, the deafening roar of the flames and the cracking and popping of wood.

Little Miss Perry liked to make her classmates cry. Not in any way that could be traced back to her of course. Jude knew better than that. Jude liked stealing pens and sweets and favourite toys. And she loved it when they couldn’t get those toys back.

Little Miss Perry loved bonfires and she loved the way her cousin cried when her soft plush rabbit went up in flames, loved the way the fake fur curled up and the stuffing melted as it became exposed to the flames. She loved the way her cousin’s parents did not believe the other girl and scolded her for losing her toy and blaming it on poor innocent Miss Perry.

No friendship or family member gave her the same warmth as watching beloved things burn.

Not until Agnes.

Little Miss Montegue did not love bonfires, but the flickering flames loved her oh so much. They licked across her skin, leaving no marks, no burns, only a soft warmth like that of a hug. Not that she would know, she had never been hugged. Her lightest touch enough to melt the flesh off a man’s bones. The smallest of candle flames would shine off her red hair as if it were made of the flame itself.

  
  


Jude watched as a single tear evaporated on Agnes’ cheek as the unfortunately stupid young man was wheeled into the ambulance. Why did she care? For what? Some random mortal man?

Jude thought Agnes to be a goddess made real, a gift and a prophet.

That she would shed a tear for a man that was not even one of her devoted followers was madness to Jude.

She deserved better.

Jude could be better.

A fire, bigger than all the others. A sacrifice of pain and fear that would show her devotion to Madame Montegue.

  
  


At this point, Jude did not have a lot of family left, but it wasn’t all too difficult to gather them up. Agnes’ other followers quickly helped with what few loved ones they had left. Photographs and paintings. Children’s toys and old letters from lost loves. Ancient family heirlooms and wedding dresses. All were stacked into a pyre that towered over the fervent cult as they tied struggling bodies to the mismatched items.

Jude watched over it all, a fire that had not yet been lit roaring in her eyes.

She did not look at the crying forms as she lit the pyre, only sitting back to enjoy the sight of the fire catching and spreading.

The crunch of branches, a hush came over the group.

She was here.

Jude bowed, worshipful and ecstatic that her goddess was here to look upon her gift. The fire grew and the screams began to turn into choked off cries. She felt radiating warmth and saw fabric brush past her as Agnes stepped up to Jude’s monument in honor of her. She straightened up and stood next to Agnes, taking in the duel burning beauties that stood before her.

Red hair covered Agnes’ face as she looked into the roaring inferno, into the screams and wails.

Agnes turned to her, a sad smile on her face.

The wax of her face began to melt as her goddess raised a hand to her cheek.

“You did not have to do this for me to get my attention Jude. You are so quick to prove your loyalty when that is not what I want, it is not what I need. If you want me Jude, you simply had to ask”

Jude stood there, confused and despairing. Was this all for nothing? Had she _upset_ her beloved goddess, her prophet, her guiding light? She reached out, a moment that she later could barely believe she had dared to do, her fingertips tugging on the flowing fabric of Agnes’ shirt. 

“Please?” her voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.

Agnes smiled. 

Jude felt the warmth of Agnes’ breath on her other cheek for a single, eternal moment, before the feel of her lips scorched her skin.


End file.
